


Patchwork Clothing

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [12]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Robin, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Kidnapping, Truth Serum, except he's only realised he's a parent very recently, no beta we typo like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23340763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Bruce and Dick are both dosed with truth serum when they're captured.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622032
Comments: 41
Kudos: 537
Collections: Dick & Bruce, everybody loves dick





	Patchwork Clothing

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Abandonment" square on my Batman Bingo card!! For the anon on tumblr who wanted a fic with truth serum/potion ^~^
> 
> You can see Dick however age you want as long as it's between like 15 and 17 tbh, w him losing his parents at age 8.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own DC

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Bruce had been temperamental all week. Dick knew it had a lot to do with the case they’d been unable to crack before five more innocents had been killed, but it grated on him all the same.

Dick understanding _why_ Bruce was moody didn’t stop Dick from also being moody right back at Bruce, which was probably where the problem lay. But in Dick’s defence, _he_ wasn’t the one who'd had to live off Bruce's cooking these last couple days, and It didn’t help that Bruce was now constantly tense and waiting for him to blow a fuse.

Dick shuffled restlessly on the rooftop, resisting the urge to shiver. The lack of pants had been a good idea in terms of manoeuvrability, but when it came to the chilly winds that were a constant on Gotham rooftops, they were no help.

Dick could tell Bruce was gritting his teeth without having to turn around.

“I don’t think they’re coming tonight,” Dick said. They’d been waiting there for _two hours_.

Bruce only grunted, eyes still fixed on the building across the street.

Dick performed a cartwheel on the other side of the roof, where the chances of him being spotted were almost non-existent. But that didn’t stop Bruce’s head snapping towards him as he glowered at Dick.

“If you can’t sit still on stakeout, you don’t need to be out,” Bruce growled.

Dick huffed a breath, watching it transform into a visible cloud. “They can’t even see me,” he muttered.

“That’s beside the point.”

Dick went and crouched beside Batman, wondering how credible his strive for independence would be if he asked to huddle under the cape. Was freedom and trust _and_ warmth too much to ask for?

He felt, more than saw, Bruce glance at him. Wordlessly, Bruce freed up some of the cape, like he’d always done. Except that he’d never had to do it, typically; Dick was more than willing to crawl under it himself without a second thought.

“I’m fine,” Dick said.

Bruce didn’t react to his words except to rescind the cape; it seemed as though he left even less of it billowing around than he had before.

Dick itched to _do_ something. Patrol these last three nights had been the same: stakeout and listening on the police radio. The Batsignal had remained dark – crime in Gotham seemed to be holding its breath for the moment.

“There’s movement,” Bruce said in the silence, standing up with no sign of stiffness.

Dick followed, adrenaline hitting him as he relished at the thought of all this watching finally coming to fruit.

“Robin, head around the back. Enter when I give the signal,” Batman instructed. He was already grappling to the adjacent rooftop, leaving Dick to follow him and drop a line down to the back entrance.

There was a man with a gun and ski mask standing guard at the door. Dick almost felt sorry for him as he dropped onto the man’s shoulders from above, grabbing the gun before it could hit the ground with a clatter.

He handcuffed the man to a nearby pole, gagging him. Then Dick picked the lock, waiting for the familiar crash that meant that Batman had entered from above.

It really was lucky that Gotham buildings had so many skylights.

“Robin,” Bruce rumbled, and Dick swung the door open, ready for the two men standing three metres away, guarding the arched entrance into the next room.

What he hadn’t accounted for the was pinprick of something hitting him in the neck from above. Dick’s vision went woozy before he could utter a single word.

He had to do something. He couldn’t go down like this. Bruce was counting on him.

“B,” he choked, fighting with the dizziness. “Hit me with something.”

There was a table next to him, and Dick only had a moment to grab whatever was nearest – a wrench – and fling it with remarkable accuracy at the figure racing towards him.

There were grunts from the other end of the comms. “How long?” Bruce demanded.

The figure ducked and swerved, the wrench hitting their shoulder. There was a low curse – feminine voice – and suddenly she and Dick were engaged in a fist fight that he was losing very fast.

“Not long. She’s faster than me, right now.” Something in Dick set off red flags: he hadn’t meant to say that. For some reason, _I can handle it_ hadn’t come out.

There was a longer pause from Bruce than usual, indicating that he also found this uncharacteristic. But Dick had more to worry about than his uncooperative mouth: his opponent was currently trying to choke him with her thighs, and it was working.

His limbs, already under influence of the drug in his system, were limb and unresponsive. The last thing he registered was Batman saying something in his ear, words that Dick’s brain wasn’t conscious enough to process, let along decipher.

* * *

When Dick came to, he was lying on his side. The hand that had been trapped under his body was now numb. He didn’t give any signs that he’d woken yet, instead lying still and regulating his breathing so he would appear to be sleeping.

He was in some sort of basement. The concrete was cold under his cheek, and he’d evidently been placed without care, because his legs and the side of his face were scraped. The room was dark, but there was light coming through…

“Robin.” Batman’s voice. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Dick said immediately. He frowned – when was the last time he’d answered Bruce _that_ fast?

If Bruce noticed something off, he didn’t let on. Dick sat up, a hand going to the nape of his neck where he’d been injected with the drug, and he did a full body scan to determine all his bones were in the correct places.

“They got you too, huh?” Dick asked absentmindedly. He was chained to the wall, the cuffs digging uncomfortable into his wrists and ankles, but giving enough leeway to move around a couple metres in each direction. It was too bad this basement was so _massive_. Bruce was at _least_ ten metres in front of him.

Batman grunted. “Foolish mistake,” he said, voice almost too low for Dick to hear.

Dick snorted. “Yours, or theirs?”

“Mine,” Bruce said, surprising both himself and Dick.

Dick’s head snapped up, and everything suddenly made sense.

Bruce nodded. “Whatever they injected us with had properties that inhibit the prefrontal cortex’s ability to deceive, but heightened beyond typical drugs.”

“Fuck,” Dick muttered under his breath. Bruce didn’t even admonish him with _language,_ which really went to show just how screwed they were.

Batman and Robin kidnapped and dosed with truth serum. These people could ask them anything, and they’d be hard pressed not to answer with complete honesty.

“Plan?” Dick asked, twisting around to get a better look at the shackles holding him in place.

Bruce’s mouth was a thin line, as though he didn’t want to respond, and that was when Dick remembered _monitoring devices_.

“Cameras?” he asked quickly, hoping Bruce would answer that question first.

Something relaxed in Bruce’s posture, invisible if it weren’t for the fact that Dick had been watching Bruce keenly since he’d been taken in. “Just motion sensors,” he said, nodding his head to the wall opposite the two of them. “No listening devices.”

Dick frowned. That was… unusual. It didn’t make sense that they would give them truth serum and then essentially _leave_ them in a cell with no means of monitoring their conversations.

At that moment, the door flung open and hit the opposite wall with a _clang!_ Three people, clad in black clothing and ski masks, strode in.

Dick and Bruce were on their feet in an instant, ready for a fight, but at that moment, the chains attached to Dick’s wrists jerked upwards, and he let out a surprised yelp as they shortened until he was hanging by them from the ceiling.

“This will be faster if you both cooperate,” one of them said, standing between Dick and Bruce. “Painless, too.”

He turned to Dick, cocking his head. “Robin, is it?”

Dick meant to say something sharp, something _witty_ , but what came out was, “Yes.” Short and clipped, but an answer nonetheless.

Dick couldn’t tell with the mask covering his face, but he was sure there was a smile on his interrogator’s face. “Answer a few questions for me, Robin,” he said. There was a leering tone to his voice as he added, “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your identities. I just want to know who your source is.”

“Research and fieldwork,” came out through gritted teeth. Dick practised letting his mind go blank, to not think of what he didn’t want to spill. But the thing with truth serum was that it wasn’t like telepathy; the knowledge was there in his head, regardless of whether it was in his working memory or long term.

“Run me through the precise steps—”

“That’s enough,” Batman growled. “Ask me.”

Another stepped forward. “Protective, aren’t you?” she asked. “What is he, your kid?”

Dick could see Bruce’s jaw clench even further, and he would’ve winced at how tight it was now, had he not stilled at the question. He didn’t want the answer to this; he didn’t want to know whether Bruce thought of him as his son.

Because if the question was turned onto him, if they asked him if he saw Batman as a father, he was pretty sure the answer would be _yes_.

He didn’t look at Batman’s eyes, keeping his gaze fixed on the people that had captured them. They had guns on them, which was one of the reasons why Dick hadn’t yet attempted to swing up using the chains like rope.

“C’mon, Batsy, you’ll only hurt yourself if you keep it in,” she crooned, walking just close enough to still be out of Batman’s reach. “My, my… I didn’t think it’d be something so _mundane_ that would take you out.”

Dick’s eyes, without his permission, flicked to Batman, and he saw a trickle of blood making its way out of Bruce’s nose.

“B, answer it. It’s fine, okay?” he said, ignoring the thudding in his chest.

Bruce looked at him, and with a heavy exhale that blew droplets of blood everywhere, he growled, _“No.”_

This information didn’t seem to have any impact on their captors. In fact, it almost seemed like they were expecting it. Dick tried not to show he had any reaction to it at all.

“What brought you here?” This time, the one who had been questioning Dick stepped forward.

“A sloppy job covering your tracks,” Bruce said.

There was definitely a sharp edge to his tone as the captor said, “ _What_ sloppy tracks?”

“What are we, your debugging team?” Dick said, suddenly annoyed that these people had tranquillised and drugged them just to ask how they could _improve_ their crime.

“The adults are talking, kid.”

Dick barked a laugh. If he had a dollar every time someone said that…

One of them came round and punched him in the stomach. Normally, he would’ve barely felt the hit, curling around to lessen the blow. But now with his arms suspended, his torso was completely unguarded. The wind rushed out of Dick’s lungs as he was flung back into the wall, but he’d been doing this for a long time.

Dick wrapped his legs around the man’s knees, using the manacles around his wrist to pull himself upwards and ignoring the stinging and tickle of blood running down his arms. He twisted his legs, and the man tripped before he could so much as _think_ about pulling his gun out on Dick.

The other two rushed forward, but in that moment, Dick was all the distraction Bruce had apparently needed. He threw two batarangs and they immediately collapsed.

Dick breathed harshly, pulling the body of the man he’d taken down to scavenge for anything to free himself. Bruce turned to him, barking, “Wait here,” as he strode outside.

Dick blinked. Bruce had never – not recently, anyway – done _that_ to him. He’d always been willing to have Dick watching his back, always made sure that he was with him.

But now he was a liability in the field, with this serum running through his veins. He’d shown Bruce that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, that he couldn’t be trusted right now. Bruce was right to leave him here.

Dick fumbled around in the man’s pockets, finally coming up empty. The other two were too far away to reach. There was only one option that Dick could see, and that was shooting at where the chains were attached to the wall, and hoping for the best.

Batman had told him to stay. But Batman needed someone watching his back, even if he didn’t think Dick could do it.

Dick hoped Bruce was far enough away that the sound wouldn’t carry, because this was going to be _loud_. He crouched as far away from the bolts in the wall as he could get, and covered his head with a hand and cape, curling into himself. This was more precaution than anything, because he had calculated the angle of ricochet – and besides, the returning bullet would be deformed and lose much of its force – but things didn’t always go the way according to plan.

Dick sucked in a breath and pulled the trigger, fighting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. The bolt in the wall, already rusty with age and water leakage, broke enough for the chain holding Dick captive to slip through with a few tugs.

The bullet had gone flying into the into the opposite corner, away from Dick and the surrounding figures.

Dick quickly moved to the woman, the second closest to him, and rooted through her pockets. Under the thigh length coat, she had a circle of keys in her belt. It didn’t take Dick long to find the right one.

He crept up the stairs, just in time to see Bruce spin-kicking his opponent and come racing towards the basement door. Seeing Dick, he halted.

“I thought I told you to stay put,” he said. There was no deflection to his tone; to most people, he would sound like how Batman always sounded. But there was a strange breathlessness to it that made Dick flounder.

“And I thought I was your partner!” Dick hadn’t even known the words were _in_ him, let alone this close to coming out. He cursed himself; no wonder Bruce had left him there.

The pause until Bruce responded was a moment too long. “You are,” he said. “I have what we came for. Let’s go.”

“You can’t just _ditch_ me every time I do something wrong, or not _right enough_.” Dick was going to die of mortification, but that would happen at a later time because right now all he felt was that childish sensation of a lump in his throat.

Bruce didn’t pause. “Where is this coming from?” he asked, before wincing. “You don’t have to answer that." His words were in vain.

Some part of Dick hated that he was being forced to answer Bruce, but the rest of him was relieved. Something would change after tonight, for better or for worse.

“You still treat me like a kid all the time,” he said. “I’m not _nine_ anymore! I’m almost an adult. I’ve led my own team. You can trust me to watch your back.”

They’d reached the Batmobile now. Bruce got into the driver’s seat, placing a box that he’d had hidden under his cape in a little compartment at the back. Dick got inside, even though being in a car with Bruce for the ride back to the Cave was the last thing he wanted right now.

“I do trust you,” Bruce said finally. It seemed that as long as they weren’t questions, no one was compelled to answer. Seeing Dick open his mouth to refute his words, Bruce fixed a stare at him. “I can’t lie, Robin. So whatever I’m saying now is the truth, the way I see it.”

Dick closed his mouth, staring ahead.

“I trust you,” Bruce said again. “I know what you’re capable of. I—How did you get free?”

The shift in conversation jerked Dick out of his mood momentarily, before his lips were moving without his consent once again. “I used one of the guns to shoot at the bolts in the wall.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but his hands clenched on the steering wheel.

“You asked, B,” Dick said. “And you know I wouldn’t have done it, but I wasn’t going to leave you without backup, and it was the only way.” When Bruce still remained silent, Dick’s anger flared. “If you care so much how I got out, you shouldn’t’ve abandoned me there in the first place.”

That…that wasn’t the _truth_. Dick knew deep down that Bruce _hadn’t_ abandoned him. But it had come out, that fear still ingrained deep within him that Bruce would one day run out of uses for Dick and tell him to leave, fire him again. The fact that he didn’t see Dick as a son, when Dick had started to view him as a father for some time now, didn’t help matters. Partners were replaceable.

Bruce turned to look at Dick. “I didn’t _abandon_ you,” he said, surprise in his tone. “I…” He broke off.

“You what?” Dick asked, before he could stop himself.

It was bittersweet how they were both exploiting this serum. Dick didn’t know why he kept asking for answers to questions that would probably end with more hurt and awkwardness for both of them.

“I don’t like endangering you more than strictly necessary,” Bruce got out.

Dick snorted. Was this wearing off Bruce faster than it was on him? Or maybe Bruce’s dose had never contained the drug. But that didn’t explain the nosebleed. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“It was different then— _I_ was different then.” Bruce seemed to struggle to find the right word. “We both needed Robin.”

“And what, you don’t need Robin anymore?”

They were in the Cave. _Finally_. Dick could… well, he could go and pack and then run away, like he had before. There was no point in staying if Batman didn’t need him.

Bruce got out of the car and glowered at him. “Stop asking me questions,” he said. His eyes were squeezed tight, knuckles white.

“I don’t see why that’s so hard to answer. It’s a simple yes-or-no question. Do you need Robin or not?”

“Of course I need Robin.” The words burst out of Bruce, and he gasped a breath as they released from him. “But I don’t think you need Batman. Not anymore.”

Dick blinked. “Not like I used to,” he admitted. “I outgrew being a sidekick ages ago.”

Bruce huffed a breath. Then he nodded to the medbay. “Hands,” he said.

Dick had forgotten about his torn-up wrists. He followed Bruce, plopping onto the cot, and eyeing him with an experienced gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did they hurt you?”

Bruce shook his head. “Just bruises.” He looked annoyed at himself for answering.

Dick grinned, the first one all day. “Alfred would be loving this,” he said.

Bruce grunted. “We’re not calling him until we’ve sorted this out,” he said.

“Aw, c’mon,” Dick protested half-heartedly, “he’d get a kick out of it.”

Bruce fixed a stare at him. “You’re welcome to talk to Alfred,” he said, “while I synthesise a cure.”

Dick huffed dramatically, hiding a wince as Bruce cleaned out the gashes on his wrist.

“Can I ask you a question?” Bruce said, not looking at him.

“Depends on what the question is.”

“Your behaviour these last few days.”

“Oh.” Dick thought for a moment, but there wasn’t really anything to hide, was there? He’d been annoyed this week because Bruce was treating him like a kid again, always forgetting that Dick was actually competent. “Okay. Shoot.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked to his before going back to what he was doing. “Is something…wrong?” he asked finally, just when Dick thought he’d chickened out.

“Uh,” was Bruce an idiot? “yeah?”

Bruce let out a measured breath, eyes flicking to the roof. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

The words burst from Dick like water from a dam, words he hadn’t even known were pent up inside him. “I dunno, B. Sometimes it feels like you recognise me as your equal, as someone _qualified_ , who can handle shit, and then other times it’s like you think I’m a completely different person who never wore a cape a day in their _life!_ You don’t let me do some of the things I’ve done _regularly_ before, when we were starting out! What’s wrong with _me?_ The better question is, what’s wrong with _you?”_

Bruce had gone still through Dick’s tirade. “The way we managed this operation at the start,” he said in stilted words, “was not… _safe_.”

“Nothing about this gig is safe! We go up against criminals—”

“You wanted me to use you as _bait_ ,” Bruce snapped. “There are certain things I’m lenient with, but your life isn’t one of them.”

“I’ve been bait before,” Dick shouted. “You didn’t seem to care then!”

“I didn’t think of it as as _endangering_ _my_ _kid_ then!” Bruce’s mouth closed with a snap, along with his face, shuttering the second the words made their way out. As Dick stared at him, he turned for a moment and ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, turning back around with an impassive expression. “I know it isn’t what you wanted to hear. And it’s selfish, put like that. I was naïve, when I first took you in. Thought we were invincible.”

“But tonight,” Dick said. There was a ringing in his ears. “They asked you. You said no.”

“I was saying no to _you_ , when you said ‘it’s fine’. I was grateful for the out.” Bruce looked at him. “I understand, Dick. You don’t have to be okay with it, but I can’t change how I—”

“Shut up,” Dick whispered, jumping off the cot and flinging himself at Bruce. His hands went around Bruce’s neck, not finding it within himself to avoid hugs because he wanted Bruce to see him as a grown-up.

Bruce hesitantly wrapped an arm around Dick’s middle and another at the back of his head, holding him in place. His legs were dangling off the ground.

“I’m sorry for this week,” Dick said into Bruce’s shoulder. “For…”

“Spewing teenage angst all over the place?” Bruce said, a hint of his wry humour slipping in.

“I’m not going to stay sorry if you put it like _that_.” Dick wriggled out of Bruce’s hold and landed neatly. “C’mon, I’m hungry. We aren’t gonna die if we leave it another fifteen minutes.”

A dosage of truth serum wasn’t going to fix all their problems, but they were fine for now.

**Author's Note:**

> any ooc-ness is explained away by these two being drugged lol. i also consider this to be AU canon divergence, because communication isn't really a canon feature
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! my bingo card is in the series description if anyone wants to request a square, and i'm always up to chat on [tumblr](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/)!!


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